


Walking After You

by PazithiGallifreya



Series: Fortune [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/F, F/M, Female Gimli, Fluff and Angst, Forbidden Love, Genderswap, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-02-03 20:12:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1756011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PazithiGallifreya/pseuds/PazithiGallifreya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Legolas discovers a secret about Gimli as the world changes around them following the War of the Ring. Things take a strange turn for their friendship. (post-canon AU little lovestory between a dwarf & an elf)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is primarily based on the book rather than the film, and the sequence of events surrounding the story reflects this, but you don't really need any familiarity with the book to follow the story if you've only seen the film, just know that there is a gap in time of about a month between Aragorn's coronation and the arrival of Arwen.

Gimli had just winked at him. _Winked_ at him, like he were no more than a simple child, after he’d just—

“We’re more common than you think, elf. We simply prefer not to reveal the nature of ourselves but to those we trust with such knowledge.”

Legolas stared at his friend for several long moments, reply dying on his lips. His mouth remained slightly open in an expression that would, indeed, be more fitting on a confused child than an ageless elf.

They had traveled hundreds of miles, fought, faced death and, indeed, nearly the end of everything good in the world, together. Never had Legolas suspected for a moment…

Legolas tilted his head slightly as Gimli barely held back laughter, eyes crinkling and mouth turning up in the effort.

He didn’t see what was so funny, really (and desperately wished he could stop blushing, he could still feel the flush of heat reaching to the very tips of his ears).

Was he really _that_ blind? Gimli had been his closest companion since… well, since Lothlorien, anyway. No time at all in the long life of an elf, really, but somehow it seemed like they’d been friends forever, if only recently had they become aware of it.

And yet he’d never considered for a moment that Gimli was anything but what “he” had presented _herself_ as. He’d thought Gimli’s preference for privacy over their journey was simply a dwarven trait, famous as they were for keeping to themselves, but not an attempt to _hide_ —

Gimli laughed in earnest as she wrapped an arm about his waist, nearly dragging him down the hallway.

Legolas pulled away from her friendly grasp, suddenly. Gimli turned to face him, her mirth gone.

“Legolas—“

She cleared her throat and lowly mumbled something in her dwarf-language.

“Legolas, you have to understand, I never truly meant to hurt anyone. In Rivendell, I wasn’t sure I’d be respected... well for many reasons, but this also. My father also had advised me… and then when we nine all left on this quest, I was sure I’d be turned away if… Legolas, it is _different_ for dwarves than it is for men, or even for elves.”

Legolas said nothing still, which only seemed to increase Gimli’s distress. She briefly covered her face in her hands.

“This was never meant as some cruel trick or jest, you know that, right?”

Legolas stared down at her for a moment longer.

“Gimli… you let me believe for _months_ … we’ve spent all this time sparring and riding together like… Gimli, a lie of omission is _still a lie_.”

Legolas turned away from her. He wasn’t angry, truly, but still somehow… hurt. He wasn’t altogether sure why it upset him or why he was suddenly now so embarrassed over, well, _everything_.

“Gimli, I thought you trusted me. Despite the long unfortunate history between our peoples… I believed us friends.”

Gimli huffed and kicked lightly at his heel.

“I do trust you, you daft elf! And we are still friends, at least for my part. I meant to tell you, eventually, but there never seemed an appropriate moment to speak of it. Why is this so difficult for you to understand? It is not uncommon among dwarves for all of us to go to war, nor do we segregate ourselves as others do. Truthfully, we often let men and elves think us all male as it just makes certain things… well, _easier_.”

Gimli ducked around Legolas to stand in front of him, although Legolas still did not quite meet her eyes.

“I am _still_ _Gimli_ , just as I was yesterday! Did we not ride together with the Rohirrim? Did we not shed the blood of many orcs to defend this world? We have traveled across half of Arda in the same cause! _Nothing’s changed!_ ”

When Legolas gave no further response, Gimli shook her head and turned from him, grumbling to herself and stomping off down the hallway toward (hopefully, if the freshly-crowned king’s staff weren’t all still sleeping off their hangovers) some kind of breakfast, leaving the stubborn, befuddled elf standing in the hallway.

As Gimli disappeared around a corner, Legolas fell back against the wall, crossing his arms tightly over his chest, as though in pain. _This should be a simple, joyful time_ , he thought – they were victorious in battle, the Ring was destroyed and the day before had been Aragorn’s coronation, followed by merriment well into the night.

“ _Why didn’t I knock before I opened that thrice-damned door_?”

Legolas thumped the back of his head lightly against the masonry a few times, trying to figure out how everything had gone pear-shaped since he’d awoken.

He’d slept off the evening’s wine sprawled sideways across Gimli’s bed, his head pillowed against the dwarf’s leg. He’d awoken with the first rays of dawn and left Gimli still snoring to return to his own room to change into something fresh. When he’d returned, he hadn’t even considered that Gimli might not be sleeping still, long into the morning as usual after such revelry.

He’d heedlessly thrown wide the door, and there he… _she_ was, stripped completely naked, her rumpled and stained clothing tossed carelessly over the floor, standing before a mirror struggling to comb out hopelessly tangled hair. Even the long dwarven beard could not wholly hide her very much _female_ form.

Legolas had frozen like a frightened rabbit, unable to retreat or, indeed, draw breath, for several long moments. A half-hearted shout and a comb aimed squarely at his forehead finally got him moving; he’d slammed the door and slid to the ground against the opposite wall, feeling his face burning.

Several minutes later, the then fully clothed owner of the comb appeared to retrieve the item, and he was still sitting where he, and the comb, had landed.

 _“Gimli…you’re… a lady?!”_  

 

* * *

 

 

Gimli grumbled to herself as she ate what had been laid out – simple fare compared to the nearly endless feast of the night before, and all the more welcome for it.

She was attacking her bread with butter and shaking her head as Gandalf (who was staying in the same guest quarters adjacent the King’s halls as herself, Legolas and the Hobbits) joined her.

“Is anything wrong, my dear dwarf? It seems a fine morning.”

Gimli glanced up at the wizard as he sat across from her, slicing a thick piece from the soft bread and pulling a pot of jam from the middle of the table for himself. Gimli took a bite of her own slice and chewed at the bit of crust longer than was strictly necessary.

“’Tis nothing important… just a certain idiot who won’t listen to good reason.”

Gandalf slowly spread jam over his bread, watching Gimli under his bushy eyebrows, waiting.

They ate in silence for several minutes before Gimli suddenly tossed the remaining crust onto the table and massaged at the headache building behind her forehead.

“Sometimes something is really very simple, but certain _individuals_ want to make it out to be something far more significant than it truly is.”

Gandalf sucked a bit of jam from the ends of his fingers and nodded at the dwarf.

“Hmmm, I suppose in some matters that may be true. But what may be insignificant to one may truly be quite a serious thing to another. I suppose it is often a matter of perspective.”

Gimli took up the remaining crust of her bread and jammed it into her mouth, saying nothing.

Gandalf rose suddenly from his seat and pulled a long-stemmed pipe out of some hidden pocket.

“Care to join me?”

Gimli shrugged and followed him out onto a nearby porch, still chewing her breakfast. She did not have her own pipe with her and did not wish to return to her room to retrieve it; Legolas’ room was nearby and she did not want to risk that he might still be pouting in the hallway where’d she left him; her temper was still inflamed and another quarrel so soon would not do either of them any good.

Gandalf blew a few smoke rings of various colors and left them spinning and floating aimlessly about the porch in the pale morning sunlight. There was a breeze, but it was already growing warm and a few fair-weather clouds were traveling swiftly across the sky above them. Birds were flitting about and busying themselves in the trees of the city as Spring wore on. One could almost believe that they had not lately fought in such a terrible war.

Gimli sat on the bench beside him, leaning on a railing and looking out over the city and the fields beyond it. There were still scars remaining across the land from the battle, but the grasses would grow quickly with the rains of spring and early summer, and soon engulf them.

 

* * *

 

Several days passed and Gimli did not see Legolas but in passing. Sometimes she would glimpse him walking down a hallway, or catch the flash of his long hair as he turned a corner, or peering over a parapet to find him at a distance on another level of the city.

The Men of Minas Tirith had been working swiftly to repair the damage done during the war, both within the city and beyond it. Gimli busied herself with the local masons, advising them how best to shape and set new stones to repair damaged walls and buildings.

She’d hailed a passing raven and sent message to Erebor for aid – no doubt they were still busy finishing up their own repairs, but if perhaps they could spare a few skilled dwarves, things would run more swiftly and to better quality. Minas Tirith was a fair city and the sight of the broken stones of the walls pained her. She hoped a reply would come soon; if nothing else she missed the company of other dwarves (who understood certain things much better than certain stubborn elves).

In the evenings, she found herself most often smoking with Gandalf or with the young hobbits. After the second week, she saw Legolas not at all.

“I, uh... I don’t suppose you know where the elf has gone?”

She hoped her tone did not betray her growing anxiety – Legolas had not spoken to her since the morning after Aragorn’s coronation and “The Incident” (as it became in her mind). She was beginning to worry that it was more than mere embarrassment at accidentally peeping on her undressed that was keeping him away.

Gandalf peered at her for a moment in that unsettling way that always made Gimli suspect the wizard could truly read minds. She scratched at her neck nervously, despite herself.

“He has gone with a group of Rangers into Ithilien; I believe he has some personal interest in the region. I am surprised he did not tell you where he was going… or invite you to come along, for that matter.”

Gimli merely shrugged, not wanting to betray her true feelings on the matter any more than she already had.

“He does not need my permission to go where he may please, I was merely curious.”

Gandalf drew on his pipe, exhaling heavily through his nose. His face was quickly obscured in smoke.

“I did not say that he did. And you know well that you are not being entirely truthful. _Curiosity_?”

Gimli looked at him crossly for a moment but said nothing. She knocked ashes from her pipe against the side of her boot and stared out over the field as if she could somehow sight Legolas miles away.

“Gimli, It is clear that you and Legolas have had a quarrel, but perhaps it would be better if you spoke to him, rather sitting here and brooding over it all afternoon. It has been many centuries since such friendship has grown between an elf and a dwarf and it would be a pity if the two of you stopped speaking over something that you yourself said was a ‘ _simple_ ’ matter.”

Gimli tried not to roll her eyes like a dwarfling. She was too old for this nonsense.

“Perhaps elves and dwarves are simply not meant to—“

Gimli cried out in surprise as Gandalf suddenly reached out and pinched her ear sharply.

“None of that talk, master dwarf. I’ve heard enough in my days to last many ages, and it is simply not true, or the two of you never would have become friends to begin with.”

Gimli growled deep in her throat but the threat was (mostly) empty. Nonetheless, the wizard withdrew and stood, regarding the dwarf still smoking her pipe on the bench for a long moment. Gimli met his gaze steadily this time.

After a moment, Gandalf put out his own pipe and stowed it in a pocket before leaning to place his hands on Gimli’s shoulders, their noses almost touching, and spoke to her softly.

“Gimli, my friend, I do indeed have some inkling of what has passed between the two of you to cause this rift. It is not insurmountable, nor is it wise that you should end your friendship over it. Indeed, I believe there is more in this than either of you are currently aware of, and you would do well not discard something precious out of mere stubbornness. Go to him, Gimli. He will listen, in time.”

Gandalf stood and left Gimli in the waning twilight of the evening. A crescent moon was rising over the city by the time she retired to her bed, sleeping poorly as Gandalf’s words weighed heavily upon her mind.

 

* * *

 

Nearly a month passed in much the same manner, and Gimli had not yet taken Gandalf’s advice. Legolas remained largely out of sight, only rarely returning to the city to consult with the king on some matter that Gimli pointedly did not bother to inquire about. She sometimes caught an accusing glare from Gandalf, no doubt cross with her for not heeding his instructions, but he did not speak to her of it again.

A company of dwarves arrived from Erebor a few days following their talk, and from that point, Gimli had plenty of distraction overseeing the final repairs to the walls and buildings of Minas Tirith and with tidings from her home.

The death of Dáin Ironfoot was woeful news, but could not entirely dampen her joy and relief to learn that her mother and father had not only survived, but suffered little hurt during the siege of Erebor. Gimli hoped that Ironfoot’s son, Thorin Stonehelm, would prove to be as prudent a king as his father had been. Gimli was sorely tempted to leave Minas Tirith for her home far to the North, to see her parents and cousins again, but there was still too much left unfinished (and the walls were not the only thing).

Gimli and her company of dwarves went so far as to tear down previous work, much to the consternation of local masons, and cutting new stones from a nearby quarry and fitting them to exact measurements which required no mortar and would thus endure.

One final matter remained, however, and Gimli carded her fingers through the end of her beard as she stood before the empty hinges where the great gates of the city had once stood. The broken and loose fragments had been cleared away weeks before, as they were a hazard to those coming and going from the city, but the lack of them somehow ruined the harmony of the city’s architecture.

An idea formed in Gimli’s mind, something glorious to replace what had been lost, but it would likely take many years to bring to fruition. Something lesser would have to be placed in the meantime, and it would be simple enough to arrange. Should she ever return to Aglarond, the Glittering Caves, and carry out her plans, the White City would have a wonder of its own to behold.

Gimli walked through the gateway with a secret smile on her lips, but her mood fell suddenly before she was much into the city. She glanced through the gateway back at the road which winded away from the city into the fields and wilds beyond.

They’d made a promise, many months ago, although it seemed like a past lifetime.

He’d go with her to the Glittering Caves, and she would accompany him to Fangorn.

“Lord Gimli, are we ready to return?”

Gimli snapped out of her thoughts and looked to the group of masons that had accompanied her. She’d almost forgotten them.

“Ah! Yes…”

She smoothed down her beard where she’d mussed it up in her wandering thoughts and regarded her masons. They’d worked tirelessly for several weeks now and a first-time visitor to the city would be hard pressed to guess where destruction had taken place.

“Yes, my friends, we have completed our task at last. Let us rest for the day.”

A few of them glanced at one another uncertainly, no doubt puzzled by her sudden change in mood.

“Will you be returning to Erebor with us in the morn, m’lady? Your father wishes to see you again soon, I’ve been told.”

Gimli hesitated to answer as she felt her heart pulled in two directions.

“No, not yet. There is a, ah, personal matter I must attend to first. Please tell my father and mother that I am well, and shall return, but I do not know when.”

The head mason lifted an eyebrow, expecting some further explanation.

“I will return soon enough, before the year is ended, I should say.”

The head mason and his companions waited a moment more, and when she offered nothing else, they turned and went up into the city, leaving her to wrestle with her indecision alone.

She walked slowly down the road a few yards and sat down upon a large flat stone on its edge.

The simple fact was, she _missed_ him, and as she sat, she wondered if he ever spared a thought for her these days while wandering in Ithilien on whatever errand he’d taken upon himself.

 

* * *

 

It was a fine clear evening a few days later when the King disappeared from his hall, and the wizard as well. The court was in something of an uproar, no one knowing quite where they had gone (although presumably they were together, up to something no doubt, as there was always something curious going on when Gandalf was involved).

They returned soon after with a small white sapling. The old withered tree was removed from the courtyard and the new young tree put in its place. Gimli looked around the gathering at the courtyard, hoping to catch a certain familiar face. He was not to be found.

 

* * *

 

It was not even a week later when a great host of elves arrived in the city. The residents of Minas Tirith gathered along the main street which wound through the levels of the city up to the seat of the King, jostling for a good view of the procession.

Gimli shoved her way through the crowd, even forgoing dignity to stoop and dash between knees when necessary. She paused to bow low to Lord Elrond and his family and household, but only for a moment, then pressed on past the procession with hope blossoming in her heart.

Yes, there she was, the Lady Galadriel, with her husband riding too at her side. Gimli barely remembered her manners at the last moment and bowed properly, rather than rushing to the elven queen as her heart desired.

Galadriel smiled at the slightly rumpled, nearly breathless dwarf at the edge of the crowd. Her mind reached out for Gimli’s and met for only the briefest moment; Gimli suddenly left the edge of the street and took up position at her side. It was an astonishment to the crowd to see the dwarf trotting along beside the Lady’s horse, but Gimli paid no heed to anything else but her joy at meeting Galadriel for a second time, all her worries forgotten for the first time in weeks.

 

* * *

 

Gimli stood close beside Galadriel during Aragorn and Arwen’s betrothal ceremony, garnering strange looks from many of the attendants. Gimli did not intend to leave her Lady’s side until Galadriel herself dismissed her, and no one else would dare say anything, however odd it seemed.

Halfway through the starlit procession, however, Gimli saw Legolas across the crowd, standing with the hobbits. Their eyes met for the first time in over a month and Gimli felt as if she’d been struck through the breast and she suddenly struggled to breath evenly. That it should affect her so was something she did not expect nor could she account for it.

A soft hand smoothed over her hair and fingertips came to rest at her shoulder. Tears gathered in Gimli’s eyes but she did not allow them to fall. Legolas’ eyes widened across the distance for a brief moment and he turned away to watch the King and new Queen take their first kiss as a wed couple.

Gimli watched as well, happy for Aragorn to have found his heart’s desire at long last, and the Lady Arwen as well. A few more words were spoken, and the crowd began to break up, heading toward the Great Hall of Feasting where long tables and a nearly endless seeming supply of food had been set out.

Gimli still stood beside Galadriel as she spoke to her handmaidens, her long fingertips never parting from the dwarf, holding her there with the barest of touches. She then turned to Celeborn and spoke again in that elf-tongue which Gimli did not understand (only recently had she begun to understand something of the language which Legolas spoke, which differed from that spoken in Lorien, although her tutelage had ceased after that morning which they spoke last).

Celeborn and Galadriel’s companions retired inside, as did the rest of the crowd, leaving Gimli standing alone in the courtyard beyond the newly blooming white sapling in the cool starlight.

“Come, Lockbearer.”

Gimli followed Galadriel as she led the dwarf off to the side of the courtyard, out of sight of any prying eyes. The tall elf stood close before her; Gimli had to crane her head back almost to the point of discomfort to meet her eyes.

While the power of the three rings was broken indeed and no longer lent to Galadriel the air of doom, she was not diminished in Gimli’s sight in the least, still fairer than anything she had yet seen in Arda.

Gimli stepped back in surprise as Galadriel kneeled to the dwarf’s level, and took Gimli’s hands into her own. Gimli gave no attempt to resist as ancient eyes peered into her own, reading what lay there as if an open book, encompassing the dwarf’s thoughts as if gathering them up.

Gimli’s tears returned and fell unchallenged, she did not wish to hide them from her Lady, and she knew she could not if she tried. As Galadriel had gathered up Gimli’s thoughts, she now gathered up Gimli, pulling the dwarf suddenly into an unexpected embrace.

Gimli stiffened in absolute shock. She could feel, rather than see, her Lady smile against the top of her head as a curtain of pure gold fell across her vision. A strong steady heartbeat under her ear soothed her until she was nearly slack, slim but deceptively strong arms at her back holding her up.

_Do not despair, lockbearer. I can no longer discern the future for you, but there is much in this world which is changing, and much coming which is unlooked for. Do not bury your heart._

With a light kiss in parting bestowed on the dwarf’s head, Galadriel released Gimli and turned away to join her husband and kin. Gimli swayed on her feet for several long moments trying to puzzle out the meaning of Galadriel’s words. She breathed in and out deeply a few times and shook her head. _Elves_. Even the best of them could never say anything _plainly_.

Gimli turned to go inside as well and stopped when a figure emerged from the doorway coming toward her.

Legolas stopped before her, looking at her at first as though he were afraid. He half-smiled nervously, shifting his weight from one foot to another, hesitating over some decision.

Gimli looked at him but not with anger, as she had thought she would.

“Gimli… I…”

Gimli continued to look up at him, now waiting patiently for whatever he would say.

“I’m sorry, for how I have treated you. You were right, before- You have done nothing wrong. I still do not understand, but I know I should not have named you liar.”

Gimli nodded slowly at Legolas. There was much she could say, that she indeed wished to say, but at the moment none of her usual wit would come to her. A tight knot inside her somewhere finally loosed itself and only relief flooded through her. There were other feelings and thoughts buzzing around in her heart and head but she pushed them aside for another time.

Gimli merely held out a hand and the elf hesitated a moment, but placed his own into her grasp. Together they joined the wedding feast inside.

 

* * *

 

Gimli could not say things were the same as before. Legolas’ manner toward her was again warm and friendly but much altered and she tried to push aside her annoyance.

Not that she minded him hovering about or fetching things for her, necessarily, but he acted as though she had suddenly become _fragile_. It took quite a bit of pestering to get him to spar with her at all, but he was clearly avoiding any real effort against her, however much he denied it.

How was she supposed to keep her skill sharp against someone so determined to _let_ her win every time? She was half tempted to go drag the King off his throne and out to the city guard’s practice yard. Even Faramir was too busy being besotted with the Lady Eowyn to pay any mind to Gimli. The city’s guards were skilled enough but with their numbers much reduced during the war, their shift rotation was tight and they had little free time to spare (despite ongoing diplomacy with the Haradrim and other former servants of the Enemy, and the relative peace, the King wisely wished to maintain the guard).

“You can’t keep treating me like a decorative glass vase, Legolas. I lasted out the war without any special consideration; I am not going to break!”

Gimli wiped the sweat out of her eyes and leaned on her axe, glaring at the elf. Legolas looked away from her sheepishly, mumbling something inaudible.

A fit of childish ire overtook her and Gimli reached out and pinched the elf under the ribs before storming off. Legolas yelped in surprise and rushed after her.

“Gimli, wait!”

Gimli stopped short and Legolas nearly ran into her back. She turned and crossed her arms, looking up at him.

“Legolas, after everything we have seen and done together, I cannot for the life of me understand why you are acting as if you have forgotten everything which passed before that day you walked into my room.”

“Gimli…”

Legolas cringed slightly and scratched at the back of his head.

“I can’t just ignore the fact that you’re… well, you’re a _lady_ dwarf.”

Gimli grumbled and barely resisted the temptation to kick him about the shins or simply reach up and slap him.

“And clearly you haven’t the slightest notion of what that actually means, if you intend to treat me in this absurd manner. Yes, I am female. I am also a warrior, a decent mason and a fairly good blacksmith if you must know. Do you truly think everything feminine is inherently weak?”

Legolas looked slightly horrified, shaking his head.

“Of course not! Many elf maids are fine warriors!”

“And do you treat them as though they might fall to pieces at the lightest glance?”

“No! I know several who would take my head off if…”

Legolas swallowed thickly as realization settled on him like morning dew.

“Oh.”

He laughed nervously at first, then with enthusiasm.

“I really have been foolish, haven’t I? I can only imagine if Tauriel were here, what she would do to me…”

Gimli nodded once, sharply (and while she hadn’t met this Tauriel, she'd heard a few things about her, when the surviving members of Thorin’s company had returned to Ered Luin to bring them to the newly-freed Erebor).

“Thump you, probably, and rightfully so. Perhaps I should fetch Lady Eowyn to give you lessons in her stead?”

Legolas shook his head, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.

“Eowyn, yes she is mortal also… no, that shan’t be necessary. I shall behave myself properly, Madam dwarf, I promise.”

Gimli did kick at his shins lightly this time.

“None of this ‘madam’ stuff either – this is something to be kept between us, all of Minas Tirith does not need to know my personal business.”

Legolas gave her an inscrutable look but nodded after a moment. Perhaps he did not understand, but she believed he’d at least respect her wishes.

 

* * *

 

The next few weeks passed more lightly with Gimli dividing her time between the former members of the Fellowship and the Lady Galadriel. She knew Galadriel would be departing soon for the West and tried not to dwell on the pain it caused her.

Many evenings Gimli spent sitting at the feet of the ancient elf, often drifting into sleep with her head upon Galadriel’s knee as she spoke of many things which had passed in ages before, and of Khazad-dûm in the days of its full glory, the clear, low voice following Gimli even into dreams.

Always she awoke the next day upon her own bed in her own room, her boots lined up neatly beside her door, but she had not the heart to ask how she arrived there. Nothing more was said either of what had transpired between them the night of Aragorn’s betrothal but Gimli felt more at peace that she had since leaving Erebor.

The hottest days of the summer were coming in earnest when Eomer arrived with his retainers from Edoras to escort the body of Theoden to its final resting place. Eomer and Gimli finally settled their differences regarding the Lady Galadriel before the king and many others joined them for the procession.

Gimli and Legolas were among them, riding upon Arod again as they had during the war. Legolas had hesitated initially, suggesting to Gimli that she take one of the small sturdy ponies as the hobbits were doing, but she flatly refused.

“We have ridden together countless times before, I am sure Arod can manage us both again, he is not such an old beast as to succumb to frailty yet.”

“Gimli, is it really… appropriate, though?”

Gimli pushed past Legolas to go stand by Arod, tapping her foot impatiently as she waited for Legolas to help her up. Finally, he relented. Gimli smiled to herself as she hooked her thumbs into his belt and rested her weight against his back. She felt suddenly as though coming home after a long journey, and the feeling surprised her in its intensity. She had little time to wonder over it as company began moving swiftly in a long line toward Rohan.

 

* * *

 

The funeral of Theoden was a somber affair and though Gimli could not understand much of the Riddermark speech, she could not prevent herself from shedding tears over the loss of such a kind and noble man, and the sight of Eowyn’s grief alone would be enough to bring a stranger to tears. The feast followed, and then the formal coronation of Eomer along with Eowyn’s betrothal to Faramir.

It seemed to Gimli that everything which seemed so uncertain during the war was coming to a joyful end. And soon, she would see a personal promise fulfilled, or at least the first half of it. _Aglarond_ , the Glittering Caves. Legolas blanched slightly at the reminder of their prior agreement but did not resist and Gimli beckoned him to mount Arod again.

 

* * *

 

“Oof—“

Gimli smiled as the elf barely ducked in time to avoid hitting his head on a low arch of stone. She had Legolas’ hand in one hand and a small lantern in the other, more for Legolas’ benefit than her own (like most dwarves, she did not need light to move underground).

The pathways were narrow indeed and slick with moisture in places; already the normally elegant elf had nearly slid to the floor twice, prevented only by Gimli’s quick reaction. As much as she poked fun at Legolas’ clumsiness in the underground passage, she did not wish to see him come to any actual harm.

“Yes, I suppose this is an odd place for an elf, but you will see, when we get there, it will all be worth it.”

Legolas did not seem convinced, but he followed Gimli faithfully, determined to keep his promise, despite expectations of disappointment – after all, what could an elf see in stone? About as much as a dwarf could see in a tree, most likely.

After nearly an hour of crawling through the passageway, sometimes literally for the tall elf, even squeezing through a few nearly impossible places, the path opened up and a sharp cool breeze curled about them, drying the perspiration on their faces.

Gimli stopped suddenly and turned around. She took both of Legolas’ hands in hers, the small lantern swinging wildly on a loop around her wrist, throwing wild shadows dancing about the floor and wall nearby.

Legolas looked upon the pure, open joy in her eyes. He followed her as she held his hands and his gaze and walked confidently backwards, pulling him into the cavern beyond.

She stopped finally and released his hands, though he could not pull his gaze away from her eyes. She smiled even more broadly and turned away from him and held up the small lantern as far over her head as she could manage. Legolas slipped out of one dream and fell immediately into another.

The thin light of the tiny lantern caught in a crystalline cluster directly overhead and scattered to another crystal, and another, and another. Tiny gemstones many yards away shone out like stars on a clear, moonless night.

Legolas gasped and wavered on his feet. Gimli glanced back at him over her shoulder and laughed, and the echoes surrounding them until the whole world seemed to laugh with her.

Many hours they remained in the cavern. They sipped occasionally from a shared waterskin but mostly sat in silence, legs crossed on the dry stone of the cavern floor, their knees touching, listening to the sound of their breathing and of distant water dripping in little bright notes as the light of their little lantern flame danced.

Soon, though, Gimli sighed and rose. The oil in their lantern would run short and she did not think Legolas would endure the return to open air without it as well as their coming.

She pulled Legolas up after her. He hesitated a moment before letting go of her hand and, in a sudden, odd gesture, pulled her hand upward and brushed his lips so lightly against the back of her hand she might’ve imagined it. Gimli raised a questioning eyebrow but did not comment.

 

* * *

 

Gimli’s joy was not dampened until their final return to the rest of the company. Following the matter of Orthanc and the departure of Saruman, nothing was left but many bitter goodbyes as the Fellowship parted ways for the last time.

Gimli had not the heart to speak final words to Galadriel, although the elf’s mind brushed against hers in a gentle loving caress one last time as she & Legolas turned aside for their afore-promised journey into Fangorn.

Gimli pressed her face into Legolas’ back and let her quiet tears dampen his cloak as she held more tightly to him and trembled slightly. He slowed Arod to a walk and placed a hand over the dwarf’s at his waist, but said nothing; there was simply nothing to be said.

 

* * *

 

Deeper into the forest, they were finally obliged to dismount and lead Arod through the low boughs and hanging beards of lichen. The dense air weighed heavily around Gimli and she unconsciously gripped at the handle of the axe in her belt. She let go of it as though stung, when the feeling of animosity from the trees spiked at the gesture.

She trotted forward to catch up to Legolas and slipped a hand under his cloak to grab the back of his tunic, fisting the material tightly as though he might slip away from her. He was startled out of his communion with the trees, but merely smiled at his companion and looped an arm around her shoulders.

“Leave idle your axe and they will have no quarrel with you, I promise.”

He laughed lightly and guided her to a small mossy space overhung by several especially large, gnarled oak trees, and spread his cloak over the springy floor for them to sit upon. Arod stood a few feet away, idly sniffing and pawing at the moss, probably wishing for grass.

Legolas sat with his eyes nearly closed, soaking in whatever it was he could sense from the forest. Gimli gazed up through the canopy at the green-filtered light dimly filling their resting place.

Feeling suddenly quite tired under the late afternoon warmth and cloying humidity of the forest as well the grief of so many recent partings, Gimli lay down on the cloak beside her companion and soon slept.

 

* * *

 

When Gimli awoke, she was aware of three things – it was almost completely dark, her face was cool and damp with settling dew, and the rest of her was quite comfortable and warm in a close embrace.

As wakefulness returned to her, she found herself wrapped up snugly in Legolas’ cloak and he was laying close beside her, his arms wound around her gently and his breath light against her hair. Her axe had been removed from her belt, which was somewhat troubling, but she was disinclined to go stumbling in the dark wood to seek it out.

The trees creaked and swayed above them, though there was no perceptible wind where they lay. Small creatures or insects were scratching in the undergrowth and tiny eyes glinted now and then darting through the trees. Somewhere nearby Arod snuffled lightly.

Legolas slept little, and never deeply, always with open or at most half-lidded eyes but he was still and quiet behind her in whatever dreams elves may have. Gimli sighed lightly and closed her eyes again, breathing the cool air of the night and listening to the sounds of the forest and of her companion.

It was a strange position indeed she found herself in, for a dwarf – wrapped up and held close like a babe in the arms of an elf, and sleeping like a babe also in the middle of a forest that was, by all accounts, both ancient and perilous. And yet she felt at peace and unafraid, somehow.

She wondered what her father was doing at home. She wondered what her mother would say, if she saw her daughter right now. Other thoughts entered her mind, ones she could barely admit to herself.

Soon she would have to return to Erebor and Legolas to his home in Mirkwood. The thought of it caused a pain in her breast so sharp it was almost physical; moreso indeed than even the parting with Galadriel, if it were possible.

When did the thought of losing him become almost worse the thought of death? She could not pinpoint the moment but she could not deny the truth, either, however astonishing it may be.

She knew then what Galadriel’s words had meant and suddenly felt as though the world were coming down upon her again, not from any Dark Lord or army, but from the weight of her own heart being thrown heedlessly against the very order of the world itself. It was utterly impossible; not in all the long ages of the world had such a thing happened.

And what would Legolas say? She could not bear the thought of him turning away from her now. She would rather have his friendship and nothing more than face all her days without seeing him again.

Tears pricked at her eyes and she turned into Legolas’ embrace, burying her face against his neck and breathing in his scent deeply as though he might suddenly disappear into the night.

Legolas stirred against her and she felt him shift, bringing a shoulder underneath to lift himself slightly as though to look at her, although how he could see anything at all in the dark was beyond her.

“Gimli?”

She loosened her arms from the cloak around her and pulled herself against the elf. He hesitated only a moment before rolling onto his back, bringing her over with him to rest upon his breast as she began to cry in earnest for the first time since she was a very small dwarrowling indeed, shaking with the effort to not simply sob out loud.

It was incredibly embarrassing for a seasoned warrior, and for a dwarf in the company of an elf, even one she loved ( _especially_ one she loved), but once she started she could not stop the tears and the gentleness with which Legolas held her only seemed to make the situation worse.

After several long minutes she finally seemed to get the outburst under control, only to be further humiliated with a running nose like a toddler with a skinned knee. Only moments before she had felt so peaceful and now she could not recall a time when she felt so utterly wretched.

Legolas sat up, still holding Gimli closely.

“We can leave at first light, if you wish. You have fulfilled your promise.”

Gimli slid away from him and swallowed heavily, blindly fishing a handkerchief out of a pocket to wipe at her face. He let her go but kept an arm across her shoulder in the dark.

“No, that is not necessary. It is not the forest which troubles me.”

“Night thoughts may be dark and troubling indeed, but do not let your heart despair over such partings we have had lately. Not everything good in this world is lost to us, and we shall see many of our friends again soon.”

Gimli laid her hand over Legolas’ where it rested upon her shoulder, struggling whether or not to tell him the secret of her heart. Legolas drew her close again, hip to hip and her head upon his breast. Gimli closed her eyes and focused on the sound of his heartbeat and of the forest around them, trying to find again the peacefulness she’d felt before her thoughts had turned against her.

“Legolas…”

Gimli felt him turning slightly to look at her although she still didn’t quite believe he could see anything.

Gimli was a warrior with a warrior’s heart. Cowardice was not in her and she could not turn away from a challenge, even a challenge of the heart, whatever it may cost her in the end.

 _Do not bury your heart_. Galadriel had spoken to her that which she did not even know until now. Her Lady was wise indeed, and it would be poor remembrance to spurn her instruction now.

“Legolas, I love you.”

For several long moments, they sat unmoving. Had Legolas’ elven hearing failed him suddenly? She did not know if she could say it again so soon.

The elf leaned slightly, turning the dwarf in his arms. Soft lips against hers, light laughter as he pushed her beard aside to kiss her more deeply.

He murmured soft elvish words against her lips as he lay them both down and gathered her up again into his arms. She understood only a little of his speech but understood well enough the meaning behind them and returned with her own secret vows in Khuzdul, which he knew naught of but shuddered against her regardless.

After several long minutes he pulled away from her.

“Gimli…”

She reached up to caress his face in the dark; only the palest filtered moonlight reflecting in his eyes could be seen.

“Gimli, my love, I must know...”

Gimli pulled at the back of his neck and leaned up to kiss him again. He allowed it for a moment and then pulled away again.

“Gimli, please...”

He shifted to frame her face in his hands, putting his weight on his elbows to steady himself above her.

“Just tell me you know what you are doing, that you know what this means among my people.”

Gimli shifted slightly and canted her hips, levering them both over until she was resting atop him and kissed him again.

“ _Yes_ , you daft elf, I know _precisely_ what I am doing, and I intend to finish it if only you will allow me.”

Legolas kissed her again and sat up, shifting her to the mossy forest floor. Gimli cried out in surprise and frustration, reaching out in the dark for him again. Arod whinnied and stamped nearby.

“Gimli… forgive me. Forgive me, my love, but this is all too sudden.”

Gimli’s heart fell and she very nearly came to tears again but restrained herself this time.

The nearly tangible darkness under the trees was thinning finally; anywhere else the light of dawn would be visible at the horizon. Legolas stood and moved around their little camp, although Gimli could not yet see well enough to say exactly what he was doing. She felt less wretched than before but only marginally.

By the time the sun had risen in earnest, Legolas had pulled a passable breakfast out of their packs and hanged their cloaks from nearby branches to dry the dew that had dampened them.

Gimli sat and chewed the slightly stale bread and cheese and apples they’d brought with them from Edoras in silence and washed it down with the waterskin. Legolas sat beside her but did not attempt to touch or hold her as he had done in the night. _Perhaps it was all just a strange dream_ , she thought.

They continued walking through the forest, several days passing in relative calm and with little conversation. Gimli did not have the heart to broach what had happened and Legolas seemed content to act as though nothing had occurred.

On the seventh day, they came upon an outcropping of stone, which they climbed slowly until they were above the canopy of trees, sitting in the sun and looking out over the hazy forest. From the description Merry and Pippin had given, it may well indeed have been where the hobbits first met Treebeard.

They rested there for over an hour, enjoying the breeze and open air for a while. Gimli watched Legolas as he moved about, taking in whatever sights he was seeking.

Legolas finally halted and stood still, his back to Gimli, for several long moments, before he finally turned with an air of purpose and came over to sit beside her on the stone where she rested. He gazed out at the sky above them.

“Gimli, I am not opposed to… allowing you — _us_ — to finish… what we started, before.”

He turned to meet her gaze, searching for something in her eyes. She did not look away.

“I do not know what will happen, though. I have never heard any tale or song of love between an elf and a dwarf. It may well be that such a thing has never before happened, and it is likely that many will oppose us, including some we count among our kin and and those we name friend. I want you to be very, very sure that this is what you desire.”

Gimli looked up Legolas for several long moments. She’d had the same doubts in her heart and they’d moved her to tears that very same night she’d resolved to live and love in spite of them.

“Legolas, I have never been so sure of anything before. I care naught what any else may say. We have suffered and toiled together to defend this world and nearly lost all to the darkness. Do we not deserve some measure of our own light in return? Even if we do not, I am prepared to face any and all who may issue challenge, even if it means breaking with my own kin.”

Legolas stood and held out his hand for Gimli to take. He led her from the ledge down to where the boughs of ancient Fangorn met the outcropping of stone. There they stood together, hands linked, and together spoke aloud their words of promise before disappearing again under the trees.

 

* * *

 

A passing merchant stopped and stood in wonder at an elf and a dwarf standing together a few feet away from the road just outside Esgaroth. The elf was upon his knees, his forehead pressed against the dwarf’s, their hands interlinked as they whispered quietly to one another. A horse nearby whickered quietly and the pair looked up, glancing at him briefly before they stood and retreated into a nearby grove of small trees. The merchant shrugged off the sight; many strange things had happened over the last year and one more peculiarity could hardly make a difference.

Now in more private surroundings, Gimli was free to kiss her husband without reserve, which she did so for many long moments, loathe to be parted from him, even for a short time.

Still, there were matters that must be attended to. They had agreed, for the time being, not to make known their union. The hard-won peace which now lay over the lands of Arda was too fresh, too fragile to endanger. It was… _probably_ unlikely that their respective families would turn to violence, and there would be a time for them all to come together in the light of truth, but that time was yet to come.

Legolas stood, finally, and pulled away from his wife, her hands slipping passively from his grasp only when the distance between them exceeded their reach. He smiled for her as he mounted Arod. In three months’ time they would meet at this very place again and go out into the world together.

 


	2. Illustration




	3. Illustration 2

**Author's Note:**

> The thing about the gates of Minas Tirith - according to canon, following Gimli becoming the lord of the Glittering Caves, new gates made of Mithril are made for the city by the dwarves there as a gift to the King and Queen.


End file.
